Author Note: So, I know I haven't updated my longer stories like I keep promising to do, but trust me, I will! My problem is that too many one-shot ideas keep popping into my head (some of which I won't use until I finish at least one of my stories) and it strays my focus from other things! I actually came up with the idea for this story about fifteen minutes ago. I hope you enjoy it! Lyrics are from the song "Hello" by Evanescence, so don't sue me. XD
Playground school bell rings again…
Wendy Darling-Richmond sat, covered in a blanket, at the nursery window, the place at which she had spent the majority of her life. Waiting for her daughter, Jane, to return to the house with her own children, Wendy was alone. Even after marriage, two children, and several grandchildren, Wendy was always alone.
She loved her late husband – she really did. Her family was the highlight of Wendy's life. Yet she felt as though nobody could understand her in quite the same way as the young boy who swept her off her feet so many years ago. Peter was not a lover, but a friend whom she happened to love, and losing him stole away the extra sparkle that once shone in her eyes.
A widow for the past three years, Wendy was growing older and older herself. Because of this, her eloquence in speaking was slipping – and this made communication with her family considerably more difficult. Often when she tried to tell stories, the younger generations assumed she was rambling on about nothing, or that she was becoming senile.
"Mother!" a familiar voice called out. "How are you doing, Mum?"
It was the middle-aged but nonetheless pretty Jane who spoke, as she entered the room with her own daughters. The elder, Patricia, was a teenager, sixteen years old, who was entirely focused on school and glamour and boys at this point in her life. Elizabeth, meanwhile, was at the tender age of twelve, and bore an uncanny resemblance to her grandmother. Unlike her sister, Elizabeth still believed in Neverland, and would listen to Wendy tell stories of her time spent there.
Wendy nodded. "I've been waiting for you all, Janie," she told her daughter specifically. "And for him, too. I know he will come for me." She turned to face Patricia and Elizabeth. "Have I ever told you dears about the last time he came for me?"
Jane frowned. "Mother, now is not the time for stories."
Wendy smiled. "I suppose we should all keep a good account of time. Life is meaningless without it." She paused for a moment. "My time is soon, I believe."
Jane nodded. "Yes, Mum, perhaps after the kids finish their homework."
"I haven't much, Mummy!" Elizabeth exclaimed to her mother, smiling. "I'd love to hear Grandmother's story!"
Jane shook her head, and began to lead her children out of the room (Patricia more willingly than Elizabeth, to say the least). "You forget that I spoke with your teacher today, Lizzy… I know you've got a big assignment to turn in. Start working now so that your Grandmother can tell you the story before bedtime," Jane said, shooting a quick glance at Wendy before leaving the room.
Wendy looked longingly out the window. "He will come for me," she repeated to herself, her smile lingering. "My time is soon." She closed her eyes.
Rain clouds come to play again…
Watching from inside the shelter his tree, Peter Pan frowned. It seemed as though, within moments, the sun had been replaced by grey, monstrous clouds – and now, not too far away from where Peter stood, a tempest was taking place.
Peter jumped outside, in attempt to put a stop to the storm. "I'm all right!" he shouted into the wind, thinking the weather had misinterpreted his mood. He was lonely – not upset – and his current emotions would perfectly be suited by a warm, breezy afternoon - not a full-blown typhoon. "Please make this stop!"
The wind was distressing the fairies. Many had already taken the liberty of putting out their fairy lights to keep from facing the devastation that took place in Neverland at this moment. Peter saw this, and it distressed him as well. Without the fairies, he had nobody left – Wendy had taken the Lost Boys to her world, the pirates he was willing to fight had sailed off to faraway lands, and the Indians, kind as they were, somehow did not have enough adventure to offer him.
He looked for Tinkerbell but could not find her. Without a second thought, he soared into the air, fighting against the strong winds, and headed off to London, to see if perhaps Wendy would know what to do.
Has no one told you she's not breathing?
A few days had passed since the tragic day it happened. Although Jane had suspected it might take place soon, she was in no way prepared to walk into the nursery to find her mother dead, in her usual spot at the window.
Wendy's funeral had taken place, and she was buried next to her husband, as she had requested so long ago. Jane and her family inherited the Darling family house, and while her husband was at work and her children at school, she would often sit at its nursery window and cry. Even when the children returned, and spent their studying time in this room, Jane stood or sat at the window, as though expecting Wendy to be there.
Circling through the air, Peter arrived in London at night, eternally grateful for the calm weather. He took a few turns until he arrived at the window of the home he knew so well.
"Wendy!" he called, knocking hard on the glass, seeing only a woman with her head buried in her hands.
Jane looked up, her eyes wide, and nearly screamed. She opened the window.
"It's about time, lady!" Peter exclaimed, crossing his arms as he hovered in the air. "Where's Wendy? I need to talk to her!" He flew into the room, and smiled when he saw her. He took her hand and tugged at it. "Come on, Wendy! I need you to help me." He frowned. "There's something different about you."
The girl returned a sad smile and shook her head. "I'm not Wendy – I'm her granddaughter, Lizzy. But you're… you're Peter Pan!"
Peter grinned. "I'm the best there ever was!" he exclaimed, but his grin suddenly faded. "Wait- you're her granddaughter? That would make Wendy… old…"
Elizabeth nodded slowly. "She's… dead, Peter. She's gone."
Peter crossed his arms again. "How can that be? I brought her back here a few days ago."
Elizabeth looked over helplessly at Jane, but her mother was busy staring in awe at Peter. She turned to Patricia instead. "Tricia, what can this mean?" she asked, unsure of how to respond to Peter.
Patricia cocked her head to the side in thought. "It means that he's just a boy," she said finally. "Just a boy with no proper sense of time."
"I can't believe it!" Jane interjected suddenly, a tear dripping down her face. "She spoke of you all these years… and now… you really are…"
As much as Peter loved it when people spoke of him, he needed to find out what was going on. He needed to understand.
"Where is she?" he asked again, hoping for a more direct response.
The three females looked up toward the sky as though a messenger from the gods might deliver the answer to this, but only one answered.
"I don't know," Elizabeth said.
I am your mind, giving you someone to talk to.
Back outside in the London air, Peter sighed, and tried to figure out what all of this could mean. Was this a cruel joke that somebody was trying to play on him? Were the people he just met actually pirates in disguise, holding Wendy captive somewhere?
"She's still alive," he said out loud, and he truly believed it.
If I smile and don't believe…
Perhaps he was dreaming. Maybe the medicine that Wendy had last concocted for him gave a side effect of farfetched dreams. This could not be happening.
Soon I know I'll wake from this dream.
He landed on a Neverland cloud, high above the storm, where he was greeted by Tinkerbell. Apparently this was a haven for protection of the few fairies intelligent enough to use it, as there were a few others hiding up here.
Tinkerbell sat in the palm of Peter's hand, and saw that he was trying not to cry. She did not know his reason for crying, but realized it must have been an important one, so she flew up to his shoulder and kissed him softly on the cheek.
Peter glared at her, and flew away, leaving Tinkerbell alone.
Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken…
"I don't need Tinkerbell," he tried to convince himself. "She needs to protect herself from the storm. I need Wendy to make this go away."
Peter crossed his arms defiantly. "I know she's still alive. She has to be."
I am the lie, living for you so you can hide.
Suddenly, he could hear the winds begin to slow down to a gentle breeze, and he could feel the warmth of the sun returning to Neverland. He flew back down to the land, where the flowers blossomed once more, and everything looked the way it was supposed to.
A tear fell from Peter's cheek. "She's never going to see this place again," he said with a sigh. "Not if she's dead like those people said she was."
"To die would be a great adventure," a voice rang out, and Peter turned around.
Wendy stood before him, an old woman now. Somehow, despite her differences in appearance, he knew it was her.
Suddenly, a shimmering light surrounded her, and Wendy rose into the air, slowly beginning to change. Her harsh features began to soften, and her hair began to flow longer and darker, and her eyes began to sparkle once more. She grew younger and younger, until she reached the age she had been when she first arrived in Neverland, so very long ago.
Wendy approached Peter, who stood very still as he watched all of this. Her rosy lips formed a reluctant smile, and she reached out for his hand, which Peter gradually took.
"Peter," she whispered, happy to see that her all of this that took place in her dreams was finally her reality.